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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26295178">I Carry Your Heart (I Carry It In My Heart)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenniferxprentiss/pseuds/jenniferxprentiss'>jenniferxprentiss</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, family fic, mom!Em</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:41:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,655</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26295178</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenniferxprentiss/pseuds/jenniferxprentiss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a mishmash of leftover sprinkles all over the cake — a combination of reds and greens mixed with black cats and ghosts from Halloween — trying to disguise the lopsidedness. The cake board was thoroughly covered in icing and sprinkles, so badly that it was dripping off the sides and they had to set it on a pizza pan. </p><p>“Do you think he’ll like it, mom?” </p><p>“I think he’ll love it. I just know it.” </p><p>She answered without hesitation, her voice strong and sure. If there was anything she was sure of, it was Hotch’s love for his family — the way he beamed for them and only them. <br/>————<br/>hotchniss + Hotch’s birthday + domestic fluff</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aaron Hotchner/Emily Prentiss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Carry Your Heart (I Carry It In My Heart)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hi hi </p><p>this feels largely pointless and is very long, but if u want to read toothrotting fluff then here it is! </p><p>ilyall </p><p>kudos/review if u want xo</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The team was gathered around the round table, sipping on cups of soda and poking fun at Hotch. He was wearing a pinkish flush on his face, eyes darting around the room before settling on Emily — noticed the sly smile she tried to hide behind her red solo cup of seltzer water, the way her eyes creased in the corners. </p><p>He knew this — the cupcakes, the presents, the drinks — was all her idea. No one else on the team had ever gone to the trouble of celebrating his birthday with more than a shared card, occasionally a new tie in a nice department store box, but Emily was different. </p><p>She was stoic on the outside, hid her emotions well. Aaron could count on one hand the times he had seen her face crumple, seen her show true fear, prior to their relationship. Loving Emily was the second greatest thing Hotch had ever come to know — being Jack’s father only winning out by a hair. </p><p>He was broken from his thoughts by a soft, gentle hand on his bicep, perfectly manicured red nails pressing into the dark material of his sport coat, Emily looking up at him through disheveled bangs. Her hair had fallen down her back in soft waves, dark locks a stark contrast to the white blouse she had been wearing, blazer thrown over her arm. </p><p>“Hey.” Her smile was soft, shy almost, bottom lip ensnared between her teeth. Hotch knew she was the culprit of the little party by the way she looked up at him with those big, doe eyes. </p><p>“Hey.” He set his cup down, hand settling on the small of her back protectively. “Thank you… for all of this.” </p><p>“You don’t have to thank me, you deserve it.” </p><p>Emily leaned her head against his shoulder for a moment, small smile unable to leave her face as she looked around the room. She breathed in his scent, hand tightening around his bicep before glancing up at the clock, noticing the time. </p><p>“I can pick up Jack today if you want to stay and enjoy yourself?” </p><p>“He would love that.” </p><p>It was the truth. Jack loved Emily as much as he loved his father, if not more, and it warmed Hotch’s heart to watch them together. His favorite moments were when he came home late from work, finding the main floor dark and vacant, the only light coming from Jack’s room upstairs, Emily and their son cuddled up asleep on the twin sized bed. </p><p>“Don’t expect me home early… paperwork. Strauss would never let the birthday boy have the day off.” </p><p>His tone was playful but Emily could sense the annoyance hiding behind his words — knew that his favorite way to spend holidays was with his family, and as much as the team was their family, it wasn’t the same as his wife and son. </p><p>“Don’t party too hard, then.” </p><p>Emily stretched up on her toes to press a soft kiss to his stubbly cheek, breathing in the smell of his aftershave combined with the smell that was so uniquely him. Her lips curved into a gentle, reverent smile against his skin when her eyes caught the glimmer of her wedding ring, feeling a giddy happiness stir in the pit of her stomach. </p><p>“I won’t.” </p><p>“Happy birthday, Aaron.” </p><p>He caught her by the wrist as she turned away, pulling her back into him. His hand pressed into the small of her back, leaning down to press a tender kiss to her lips — full of love and appreciation she could feel — murmured an “I love you, Emily Elizabeth Hotchner.” against her lips, only low enough for her to hear. </p><p>A loud wolf whistle from Derek startled them apart, blush creeping up on Emily’s cheeks. She took the opportunity to excuse herself, stopping by her office to grab her bag on the way out — knew that she was going to have to cut out her Starbucks trip if she wanted to make it to Jack’s school in time, happier to take him along with her anyways. </p><p>There was a small part of her that clung to the simple moments between her and Jack — shopping, making Aaron breakfast on the weekends, picking him up from school — these little moments more important to her than their lavish vacations she insisted they go on yearly. She never saw herself as a mother, not until Hotch and Jack, but she couldn’t imagine her life without them — couldn't imagine not having a little version of Aaron Hotchner clinging to her waist and calling her mom. </p><p>She pulled into the school, waving excitedly at the little boy, eyes crinkling with the force of her smile when she noticed his messy, slightly wavy hair. He reminded her so much of pictures of Aaron as a child, felt a pang of sadness that she would never see a combination of herself and her husband, those feelings quickly replaced by an all-consuming love. </p><p>“Mom!” </p><p>“Kiddo!” </p><p>Jack was always excited to see her, even when he knew his parents were in town, climbed into the back seat and buckled himself in. Emily remembered a time when she and Aaron first got together, Jack only a toddler, the little boy had gotten into the car and they stared expectantly at each other until she realized he was much too young to buckle his own car seat. Now, at nine, he was just in a small booster seat — buckled the seatbelt himself, and it brought a miniscule wave of sadness at just how old he had gotten. </p><p>“How was your day?” </p><p>She pulled out of the parking lot, listening to him chatter on about his day — about the things he learned and games he played with his friends, knew that he would soon be too old to want to chat with her, would want to hide everything from her and Aaron if he was anything like they were as teens. The smile that spread across her face was infectious, and it occurred to her briefly that she would have never had the pleasure of knowing this love if it weren’t for her husband. </p><p>“Mom! Mom!”</p><p>“Yes, Jack?”</p><p>Her tone was bemused, lacking any bite or irritation that her mother would have directed towards her. Emily’s eyes crinkled up in a smile as she locked eyes with Jack in the rear view mirror, met his confused expression. </p><p>“Where are we going? Home is that way. Um, east!” </p><p>“Starbucks, then the grocery store. We’re making a cake tonight.” </p><p>“We’re making a cake?” </p><p>It was true, Emily wasn’t much of a chef — she could count on two hands the amount of times she had taken on cooking a meal that wasn’t out of a box. As a teenager, no one had ever taken the time to teach her to cook, her mother relying heavily on the wait staff to prepare every meal. She idly wondered if her mother even knew how to cook, or if she was rendered useless without the help of the ever present staff. </p><p>“A cake from a box, yes. For your father’s birthday.” </p><p>Jack nodded, face contorted in a look of perplexed concentration, like Hotch in miniature. The sight made Emily’s lips twitch upwards in a smirk she tried to suppress, knew he was just like his father and would be embarrassed. </p><p>“But we’re still going to Starbucks, right?” </p><p>Emily nodded, watched the excitement fill his eyes as he tried to remain calm, not shout or raise his voice like they had been working on. </p><p>“And I can get a Frappuccino?” </p><p>“And you can get a Frappuccino. A cake pop too, if you play your cards right.” </p><p>A few hours later, with filled bellies and renewed enthusiasm, they stood in the kitchen side by side looking down at their cake. It could barely be classified as a cake, the measly thing crumbled and lopsided from their half cocked attempt at cutting layers to make a tiered cake. </p><p>Emily laughed softly, a ghost of a chuckle under her breath, looked from Jack’s proud beam back to the cake in front of them. The icing was streaked with dark chocolate crumbs and falling off the cake. They had been too excited, testing the cake every few seconds to see if it was cool enough to ice — evidently, it hadn’t been, the white icing turning nearly clear from the heat of the cake.  </p><p>There was a mishmash of leftover sprinkles all over the cake — a combination of reds and greens mixed with black cats and ghosts from Halloween — trying to disguise the lopsidedness. The cake board was thoroughly covered in icing and sprinkles, so badly that it was dripping off the sides and they had to set it on a pizza pan. </p><p>“Do you think he’ll like it, mom?” </p><p>“I think he’ll love it. I just know it.” </p><p>She answered without hesitation, her voice strong and sure. If there was anything she was sure of, it was Hotch’s love for his family — the way he beamed for them and only them, would never let his guard down for anyone else. He tried to remain stoic in front of the team, in front of their friends — but with her and Jack, he was unrestrained, unguarded, smiled with so much force that it nearly took Emily’s breath even now, years later. </p><p>As she watched Jack carefully place the candles in the cake, tongue poking out in concentration, Emily felt her heart clench. She had never pictured herself being a mother — never pictured herself with a family, even, thanks to years of family trauma — but here, with Jack, it was everything she never knew she wanted. </p><p>Emily had always been unable to picture herself with a family for so long, so deathly afraid of commitment, but Hotch came along and he was everything to her. She wanted everything with him — the kids, the house, the dog, the swing set in the backyard, right down to the minivan and kids in soccer — knew that after Doyle, she could never have more kids, not without adopting, but felt at peace with their little family. </p><p>“Mom?” His voice broke her from her thoughts, soft and sweet, followed by a yawn. </p><p>“Mhmm?” </p><p>“Can we watch a movie until dad gets home?” </p><p>“Yeah, why don’t you go put something on while I bring the cake and presents to the living room?” </p><p>Jack was bounding off to the living room, his hair flopping on his head as he set the movie up. He reminded Emily so much of Hotch in that moment, lanky and boyish, hair just a little lighter than his father’s. </p><p>She shot off a quick text to Hotch — reminded him not to work too late and that Jack was going to wait up on him — before pouring herself a glass of wine and grabbing a juice box. She smiled when she realized that Jack had already carried the presents and card to the living room table, watched with pride as he rearranged the boxes and gift bags. </p><p>When he was satisfied with the appearance, he gave himself a little nod, a small hint of a proud smile playing on his hips. He had left a spot for the cake, settled into the middle of the couch where he usually sat between his parents. </p><p>“Wow, kiddo, this looks amazing!” </p><p>“Thanks, mom. I can grab the drinks if you want. Just sit down and relax, okay?” </p><p>“You’re an amazing kid, did you know that?” </p><p>She set the cake down in the center of the table, watched out of the corner of her eye as Jack beamed to himself under her praise. It was something she tried especially hard to do, to tell their son how loved he was and how amazing he was, knew that it was something she craved so deeply as a child — sometimes even now in adulthood. </p><p>“Only because I have amazing parents!” He handed her the stemless glass of wine before settling into the center seat of the couch, pressing play on the tv remote. </p><p>Emily couldn’t help the smirk that crept up on her face when she realized he had chosen his favorite Pokémon movie again — hid her expression behind the rim of her glass and took a long sip before settling it on the end table. She tried her best to focus on the movie, on the small body leaning against her side, but felt her mind wandering. </p><p>She sipped on her wine slowly, her feet kicked up on the footstool. It occurred to her just how lucky they were to have Hotch’s birthday at home this year and not away on a case, knew how much it meant to Jack to have these family moments. It was something that neither she nor Aaron had growing up, vowed to each other to always put family first — before the job, before unsubs, before anyone else. </p><p>At some point, Jack’s head made its way to her lap, her glass settling back on the end table as her hand carded through his floppy, wavy hair. His eyes were sleepy, the time between blinks increasing, but he wouldn’t let himself sleep — not yet, not until his father was home. </p><p>His small hand was resting on her knee, body laying sideways and eyes trained on the screen. At nine, he was still small enough to be a child, young and innocent, but grown up enough to feel like a mini adult. Emily felt her heart clench at the time she had missed in his toddlerhood — having been present but not really there — followed by a giddy excitement at how much life they had to look forward to together. </p><p>Emily’s mind was full of visions of a childhood she had never had, something she wanted so badly to give to their son. She imagined ice cream dates in his teenage years, teaching him to drive and letting him borrow her car even when he probably shouldn’t — imagined family dinners sitting around their table, but Jack helping her cook alongside Aaron. </p><p>The soft sound of the key turning in the lock startled both of them, a shiver running down Emily’s spine before she realized it was Aaron, finally home after a grueling day at the office. She felt bad, momentarily, knew that the small party she threw probably derailed his work for the day — knew it was worth it from the smile on his face. </p><p>“Happy birthday, baby.” </p><p>Hotch stepped over the threshold, setting his briefcase on the floor and closing the door behind him. He grinned at the sight greeting him, his little family curled up on the couch together, Jack leaning into Emily’s side, head resting on her shoulder. He could tell their son was just a few minutes from sleep, probably waited up on the couch for him — felt a pang of guilt for not leaving the office earlier, wanted to be different than his own father had been. </p><p>“Happy birthday, dad!” </p><p>“Wow, what do we have here?” He made his way over to the table, bent down and looked at the cake. “This looks amazing! Like it came from a bakery. Did you help decorate it?” </p><p>Jack nodded proudly, but Hotch could only focus on the sheepish half smile on Emily’s face. His heart clenched at her appearance, white apron still fastened around her waist, ends of her dark hair dusted with a white, powdery substance that he knew had to be the cake mix. There was a streak of dried white icing above her eyebrow and she looked thoroughly exhausted. </p><p>“Hey, I’m sorry your cake is falling over.” There was a soft flush coating Emily’s cheeks, a twang of embarrassment in her tone. </p><p>“No, stop.” He placed a firm hand on her shoulder, let his fingers graze their way down her arm before sitting in the armchair. “This cake is perfect, looks better than one from a bakery. I swear.” </p><p>Emily looked at him with so much love, so much adoration it made him want to cry — the way his family stared at him like he was the entire universe, the way they hung their every plan on him. They were singing to him softly now, just barely a whisper, and Hotch had to wonder exactly when she lit the candles. </p><p>“And many more.” She finished softly, goofy smile playing on her lips. </p><p>“And many, many more. Happy birthday, dad.” Jack pushed a gift bag towards him, proud smile on his face. “Can you open this one first? It’s from me.” </p><p>He pulled the blue tissue paper from the bag, unable to control the grin that spread across his face when he pulled out the tin of Pokémon cards. It was Jack’s newest obsession, having picked Emily out a similar starter set for her birthday just a few weeks ago. They had promised each other that they would learn to play, if only for Jack, but he suspected that there would be several drunken games between them and JJ in the future. </p><p>“Wow! This is amazing. Did you pick it out by yourself?” He waited for Jack to murmur an affirmative before continuing. “You know, I can’t wait to learn the rules so we can finally play together! I bet you’ll win, though.” </p><p>“I bet I will too.” </p><p>Jack was completely serious, making both of his parents burst into peals of laughter. They had no doubt that he would win against them — he had read the rule books, scrap paper full of notes and techniques. He spent an entire Saturday building his battle deck, bringing his parents so much pride even if they didn’t fully understand what that meant. </p><p>His eyes were starting to close, laying against Emily’s side, little face buried into the crook of her arm. They waited, Emily watching Jack and Hotch watching her, until his breathing evened out, body relaxing fully. She moved his head into her lap again, combed her hands through his unruly, shaggy hair, before looking up at Hotch. </p><p>“What’re you looking at?” </p><p>“You’re an incredible mother, Emily.” </p><p>She felt her face heat up in a blush, cheeks pinkening and eyes crinkling from the force of her smile. It was something she never thought she could be — good enough, for him and their family — but tried her hardest at every day. </p><p>“Hush and cut your cake… no promises on the taste.” </p><p>“It’s perfect because you made it.” </p><p>Emily watched with a small smile as Hotch cut the crumbling cake, let out a ghost of a laugh when the whole thing gave out, collapsed in on itself. Never deterred by her skill level — or lack thereof — Hotch served them both a plate, sitting back in his chair and taking a large bite. </p><p>“This is the best cake I’ve ever eaten.” He mumbled through a mouthful of food. “Honestly better than a restaurant.” </p><p>“Stop it, Aaron, it’s awful and you know it as well as I do. </p><p>“No, it’s not. Nowhere else could have made me something with this much love… only my family can do that.” </p><p>He shoveled the last bite into his mouth, raising his eyebrow pointedly at Emily. Admittedly, it was a bit dry and overcooked, left him desperately needing a drink but he would never tell her that. He smiled, a genuine honest to god grin that made Emily burst into peals of laughter. </p><p>“That good, hm? Better than a bakery?” She raised her own eyebrow in a challenge, knew the cake was awful but he would never in a million years admit it. </p><p>“Admittedly a touch overcooked, but it’s still perfect.” He laughed along with Emily, both of them dissolving into fits of laughter that made Jack’s face contort into a small grimace. “You worked so hard, I would never discredit your work. You know, I think I may have a second piece.” </p><p>Emily laughed even harder at the way he picked up a second plate with so much enthusiasm for the sugar covered, crumbling cake. She shook her head, trying to regain her breath and tell Aaron to just put the damn cake down — it wasn’t fit for a dog, let alone a human. </p><p>“Hotch, stop, oh my god.” She could barely speak through the uncontrollable giggles, the way Hotch smiled so widely with the dry cake coating his lips. “No, that’s disgusting, stop. We’re picking one up from the bakery tomorrow, please don’t eat that.”</p><p>“A bakery cake? Thank god.” His eyes widened when he realized what he said, ran a hand through his hair as he took a breath. “I mean, your cake is amazing, truly. I just really like cake, you can never have too much!” </p><p>Emily carefully lifted Jack’s sleeping body off of her lap, settled him into the couch before standing and making her way over to the armchair. She straddled his lap, hands cupping his cheeks and bringing their faces together in a soft, tender kiss. Her fingertips grazed the stubble on his face, felt the way his lips curved up into a smile under her touch, could taste the sugary icing on his lips mixed with the taste that was undeniably him. </p><p>“I love you, did you know that?” </p><p>“You baked a cake and threw a surprise party for me, how could I not know?” He pushed her bangs from her forehead, fingers lingering on her temple. “I love you, Emily, thank you for this. All of this — the cake, the presents, the party.” </p><p>She smiled, lips still brushing the rough stubble on his cheek — loved him the best like this, unguarded and goofy and smiling the biggest damn grin she had ever seen. Her hand carded through his hair, fingernails scratching at his scalp before brushing her nose against his, smile infectious and spreading to her own lips. </p><p>“Why don’t you open your presents in the morning? Jack seems comfy here on the couch…” </p><p>“Are you suggesting we—?” </p><p>“I’ve been waiting all day.”</p>
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